Chapter Seven #2
‘Hey, this is fun!’ Sam began to really pummel the dough and quickly beamed over his shoulder at his mum.
Sylvie beamed in return and turned to face Alex, who found it impossible not to grin back at her, caught up in Sylvie’s pride and Sam’s enthusiasm.
Time seemed to pause – just for a second or two – as Sylvie’s eyes found his and the two of them stood there, smiling at each other, eyes locked and sharing the moment.
Alex was momentarily struck by all the different shades in her eyes, green, grey, hazel, but more than that, the recognition that this wasn’t a mere sexual-pull gaze – he’d had enough experience of the power of those in his life – this was different.
This struck something deeper, a soul-bind born of a moment, creating a sense of belonging, an in-this-together feeling which right here, right now was like nothing he had ever felt before.
He wanted them all to eat pizza, the four of them to curl up by the fire and stay for ever.
His heart was bowled over regularly with intense joy when Ellie did all sorts of things, both when she was ridiculously clever and really very naughty.
He had never fully understood the term ‘pride and joy’ until he had Ellie in his life, but these days it was something he experienced with frequency.
Sharing those moments, however, as he was right now, with another adult, an adult who understood the occasional but utter bliss of being a parent, that was like nothing he had experienced before.
The bliss was clearly too much for Sylvie who suddenly broke her gaze, and hence the spell, and muttered something he couldn’t quite make out before turning her full attention back to the children, who with the skill that all kids have, had picked up on their parents’ brief concentration lapse and were both now beating seven bells out of the dough.
‘Whoa! Hold on, I reckon that’s ready now.’ Sylvie waded in and gently batted both children off and rolled the dough back into a smooth ball, ready to pass to Alex. ‘Here you go, what’s the next step?’
‘Leave it to prove.’ He reached out to take the dough from her and accidentally grazed the side of her hand, feeling her flinch in response. He flicked a look at her but she merely turned to the children and suggested they start making the tomato sauce.
The easy camaraderie returned as soon as they started chopping, stirring, spreading and layering and it took no time until there were four individual little pizzas lined up on baking trays ready for the Aga.
Alex placed them in gently and turned to see the bottoms of the children’s feet as they flew through the archway and clattered up the stairs.
‘Wow! Look at the state of it. They’re not stupid, are they?
’ The two adults stood and surveyed the kitchen, pristine when they entered, now covered in a sheen of fine flour with giant globules of tomato sauce on the table, the floor, the worktops, sliding down the door of the Aga and most of it adorned with the odd sprinkling of bits of chopped vegetables.
‘On the upside, they’ve managed to miss the ceiling. It won’t take us long to sort it out.’ Sylvie smiled, the nervousness of earlier completely evaporated.
‘You know we’re going to clean it and then the pizzas will be ready and we’ll have to start all over again.’
‘Such a ray of sunshine.’
‘You’ve never seen Ellie eat before. Swear she’s like some kind of flesh-eating gorgon who manages to get her entire supper not just on her face but on her shoes, in her hair, in different rooms of the house. She’s a walking, talking version of Mr Twit’s beard.’
‘Harsh!’
‘Harsh but fair. You wait.’
‘Well, I won’t be able to even look at her as she eats now. I’ll laugh and give her a complex.’
‘I think it would take more than a giggle to give that girl a complex. She loves her food.’
‘And that’s a bad thing?’
‘Oh no, no, no. That’s totally a good thing. I don’t think there’s anything healthy about people who pick at their food and worry more than they enjoy.’
‘Good, I was beginning to think you were some kind of food Nazi. I’m a big fan of food too.
I had years of having to watch everything I ate – trust me, if we’re talking of really unhealthy eating attitudes, the culture within my industry is insane.
One of the better things about coming back to Cornwall is indulging as much as I like without the fear that people are watching, judging, reporting back.
Or maybe it’s that I just don’t care what they think any more.
Believe me, when a Cornish girl has been forcibly denied pasties, clotted cream, and Trevathien’s ginger ice cream – oh, have you tried that yet?
It’s the best – then they’re not holding back once they get home! ’
‘You’re going to love me then, I’ve got that ice cream in my freezer and what’s even better is that Ellie doesn’t like it so there is some left and you and I have pudding sorted.
’ Alex watched her flush again; was it because he had used the word love?
He knew she blushed a fair bit so should be more careful with what he said.
Regardless of the look shared a minute ago, this had to be a child-based platonic friendship and he didn’t want to blur boundaries.
He had worked so hard to create stability for Ellie, he wasn’t going to blow that all up now for a beautiful pair of eyes and an imagined sense of belonging.
He supposed he was just so relaxed in her company that he wasn’t monitoring every word used as he usually did.
He quickly changed the subject. ‘But tell me more, what industry stops you trying to eat? Jockey? Model?’ Her build suggested either were possible.
‘No, hardly a model, and I’d love to have been a jockey but I’m afraid not.
’ Sylvie’s answer made Alex wonder, not for the first time, why so many women were so hard on themselves?
However, before he could say anything she continued.
‘I was a ballet dancer, absolutely loved it. But you know how life is, things don’t always pan out as you expect.
And do you know what? I’m pretty happy being back in the village with a son who has brightened my life beyond compare and surrounded by pizza mess. I’ll take the swap.’
‘Wow, it’s not easy to become a professional ballet dancer, that’s so impressive.
But I know exactly what you mean, we spend our twenties pushing, pushing, pushing for professional excellence in fields that are not forgiving, or at least I did, live and die in the excitement, the buzz of the second-by-second lifestyles, only to find proper happiness in the mundane, in a sleepy village in Cornwall. ’
‘True. Apart from the sleepy bit – you were at that PTA thing with me earlier, weren’t you. That’s not sleepy, that’s downright terrifying.’
‘Terrifying? You weren’t the one that Marion forced into a corner and tried to get you married to some sort of freaky clone.’
‘Hahaha! Was that what she was doing? Someone definitely mentioned the taking off of clothes, was that about you? Ha!’
‘I don’t know for sure if that was the plan, and I know that makes me sound like an ego-riddled arsehole if I say yes, but honestly, yes.
At one point, she told me that Jenny, that was clone number one’s name, was not only a great homemaker but very skilled with her hands.
Honestly, I didn’t know where to look and you were no help. ’
He smiled as Sylvie let out the loudest laugh, then clapped her hands over her mouth.
‘No, that’s fine, you keep amusing yourself at my discomfort. And when I looked to you for support you were too busy scoffing some delicious-bloody-looking cornbread to come and save me from the clutches of those rampant mothers. I tell you, it’s frightening.’
‘You knew in advance she was frightening, in fact you warned me of it! You can’t complain now.’
‘I didn’t know I was going to be her number one target.’
‘Yeah, right. It must be tough being the prettiest boy in the village.’
‘Prettiest boy, huh?’ Alex could feel the smile take over his face, radiating out of his eyes.
‘Well, there’s the vicar, he might have the edge on you.
And truth is, I have appalling judgement, so I’ll just take that back, and um…
we’ll pretend I didn’t say it. Otherwise you’ll label me predatory like Marion and I promise I’m not, I’m really not into you like that… ah, I’m making this worse, aren’t I?’
‘Well, you started quite nicely, but now you’ve managed to rip my ego into shreds in two short seconds.’
‘How about we stick to pizza instead?’
‘OK, although this is quite good fun.’
‘Teasing me?’
‘I was under the impression you were teasing me, actually.’
Beep. Beep. Beep.
‘Bloody hell, that’s the timer.’
‘No way! We haven’t even started on the kitchen yet. Here, you grab the pizza and I’ll wipe down the table, that’ll do for a minute, won’t it?’
‘Yeah, although you know what, it’s a really nice evening still – why don’t you grab the pizza, I’ll fetch a blanket and we’ll have a picnic in the garden instead.’
‘You’re on!’
‘Picnic!’ Alex hollered up the stairs so loudly and with such enthusiasm that it was a miracle the pictures on the walls didn’t shake.